Catch Me if You Can
by Clonksholic
Summary: AU Emily Prentiss and Aaron Hotchner work to solve a series of werewolf murders. Strauss interferes with their 2 man team, while there seems to be a connection between the man who killed Hotchner's family and the werewolves Hotch/Prentiss/Morgan/Mick
1. Chapter 1

**Authoress Notes:** Sorry for the long absence to those of you who read my fics. I'm still working on the chapters to my other fics, don't worry they will eventually be continued. Now that uni's started I just have a lot less time to spend on them. In the meantime, hope you enjoy!

**EDIT: CHAPTER EDITED ON THE 13****TH**** OF DECEMBER TO GIVE MORE CONTEXT TO HOTCH'S PAST IN THIS TIMELINE. **

And yes, the Mick who appears in this fic IS the Mick Rawson from the CM spin off. While personally I dislike the spin off, I did love his characterization and his flirtatious banter. Those kinds of characters are always fun to write about.

**Title:** Catch Me if You Can

**By:** Clonksholic

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. Any original characters belong to me. I gain no profit from writing this, and do so solely to entertain.

**Warning: Not recommended for ages under 18. Includes violence and sexual reference. Note the rating of the fanfic people. If stuff like that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it. **

**Summary: **AUEmily Prentiss, a FBI Agent, working to solve murders involving apparently supernatural elements. Derek Morgan, a werewolf, working for a leader whom neither him nor the pack has ever seen before. Then, they meet. Hotch/Prentiss/Morgan/Mick

**Catch Me if You Can**

**Chapter 1**

_Her blonde hair trailed across the pillow as she dragged herself out of bed. She opened the curtains, the sun rushing in and casting an angelic gold film on the room and her._

_She looked back at the bed, feeling her face fall as she recognised the meticulously tidy other half of the bed. The sun warmed her skin, but she knew that side of the bed wasn't._

_She would not show any weakness. Not before his son. She never had, and never will. When Daddy was away and he would ask, she would smile and hug in an attempt to fill his absence, even though she knew it would never be enough. _

_She would then take his hand, warmth filling her up to the brim despite its small size. _

Thick files were messily spread across the dark chestnut desk. The lamp illuminated the surface, the moth that had been flying by the bright bulb all night finally laying dead beneath it, its wings dry and legs curled.

Calloused fingers flicked open the blinds by his window. A pair of hooded eyes looked out at the scene that unfolded below him, the gaze sharp but patient. They slowly studied the silent, empty office below, eventually settling on the janitor who was looking over for anything he had missed. Then, the gaze averted to the door as it opened to let a brunette woman in. She offered a smile at the janitor, saying something that made them both laugh.

She held the door open for him as he left the way she had come, one of his hands holding a bucket with bottles and sponges, and the other dragging a bucket attached to wheels that had inside it a wet mop.

He knew in just three minutes, a knock would sound, and he would admit the same brunette in. They would exchange greetings, as if nothing had happened, like every other day since that very day his life had taken a change.

The knock sounded, and he lifted his fingers from the blinds and returned to his seat at the desk.

'Come in.'

As he settled himself down on the desk to start the day, he picked up the thick pile of files, bound them together with rubber bands and slipped it into a draw beside his desk.

The door opened as the draw shut closed.

His hands came to rest upon the desk, one on top of the other. They were still as the two pairs of eyes watched the interaction between the two agents behind a simple oak photo frame, the blue eyes of the blonde smiling, hand in hand with both the figure of the tiny smiling boy that stood beside her.

Another day had begun.

.

.

.

Rush hour. A train every ten minutes.

Not the best place to be on a Friday evening after work, hoping to get home for a rare but well earned early night. Emily Prentiss felt as if she had not slept the full recommended eight hours since that day of her graduation from Yale University. Fatigue tugged at her eyelids, as it always did when she relished the anticipation of an uninterrupted good night's rest.

Emily glanced at the electronic timetable, sighing at the fact that she had to wait another four minutes. Minutes that seemed to add up to a long time when her usually busy thoughts and hands lay static with nothing work related to do.

Bright giggles sounded from her far right, prompting her to turn her head to gaze at two children, a girl and a boy, who busily ran between the legs of tall adults standing near the edge of the platform. Whilst to most, their presence brought either a smile or a disapproving frown, for Emily it elicited a sense of perplexing concern, who questioned the whereabouts of their parents. Children of such young age were uncommon at this hour, the 3 to 4 o'clock period being the rush hour for the school students.

Her glances jumped quickly between several people on the platform, searching for an individual or two who would exhibit the awareness of a parent.

She found none.

Sighing, Emily turned her eyes in the direction where the children had now disappeared into the forest of black and grey business suits. She listened, cursing and an instinctive alertness overtaking her fatigue in their absence at the sound of their laughter.

She began to make her way through the crowd, panic rising in her chest as more people began to approach the edge of the platform. A low rumble sounded, signaling the arrival of the next train and confirming her expectations.

_Shit_.

Her steps quickened at the warning, pushing past the bodies that stood in her way as nimbly as she could.

The bodies crowded around in front of her, pressing in from all sides and forcing her to stop as the train pulled up to the edge, coming to a creaky stop.

The moment she was freed from the crowd, each individual having forwarded in through the train doors like rows of biological robots, she found herself at the end of the platform staring into the large dark abyss of the tunnel.

'_The train on platform 9 goes to…'_

Emily thought she heard an animalistic growl. Her body tensed as she searched aurally for the sound once more.

_Blood completely drained. _

_Serrated edges of wound suggests bite of animal._

_Completely random victimology. _

_Mostly young. _

_Vampires._

_Fangs._

_Blood suckers._

_Urban myths._

'_Doors closing. Please stand clear.'_

The familiar beeping noise that signaled the doors to shut sounded as Emily's hand slowly travelled down to the glock that hung by her hip. Just then, rapid movements visible from the corner of her eye prompted her to swerve, catching a glimpse of the two children from before as the train window rushed past her. The rush of wind tugged at several strands of her dark hair as the train picked up speed, delving into the darkness of the tunnel. As Emily followed its path, she could see the red and yellow lights on its tail flashing mockingly.

Damn it.

She had missed her train.

.

.

.

Eyelashes carefully coated in black framed dark eyes that were outlined like Cleopatra's. She watched each man in the room, like a lioness watching to choose the right prey.

'How much?'

Dark curls brushed her cheeks as she turned to face the sultry deep voice behind her. Her shiny red lips parted into a bright smile as she surveyed him from head to toe.

She inhaled the cigarette in her hand and spoke, 'You know how rare it is to see a man of your caliber around this area of the suburb. At this hour?'

He smiled a crooked grin.

Cute.

'It often means they're looking for someone.'

'And are you that someone?' The man reciprocated, leaning on the counter next to her. The smoke and the strong perfume that radiated from her fur coat tickled his nose.

She leaned towards him, red lips almost touching his nose.

'I can be anything you want me to be.'

She moved slightly closer, her lips grazing his.

'Anything. Anyone. Anywhere.'

He took her hand that held the cigarette, and, not taking breaking their gaze, inhaled deeply from it.

She felt her lower stomach stir with desire as she felt him press up against her.

'How about we take this…outside.' His breathed into her ear, not hiding his need. She smiled into his hair, and let him lead her outside the pub. Envious eyes followed the pair as they headed out, leaving the smoke filled bar behind them.

The moment she was forcefully pushed against the wall after they had just turned the corner informed her that something was wrong. It wasn't that a quickie outside the pub was unusual, it was the enormous strength with which the man pressed up against her, the manner in which he now acted almost animalistic.

His breathing became heavier as she felt him unclothe her, both her hands rendered immobile by his right as it held them both above her head. His hot breath became almost unbearable as she felt the bricks cut into her back.

She closed her eyes and just wished it to end quickly. Something didn't feel right as he began to pound into her. She wasn't sure when the fear had began to set in. Everything became almost methodical, the sharp biting of bricks into her shoulder and back, the dull pounding that pushed her up higher against the wall.

Finally, all of it came to a stop. She breathed out deeply. As her head came back she decided he owed her a large amount for this ordeal. The winter air chilled the sweat that coated their skin. That was when she realised.

Her hands that had previously been grabbing a man's skin were now gripping on fistfuls of rough dark fur. The attack came fast, cutting off her scream as her head landed on the ground, eyes wide open despite the fact that they would never see again.

Pale yellow eyes spared no glance at the head that lay on the concrete. A vigorous sucking noise lasted softly for five minutes, until the body was then dropped, taking place beside the ground.

Then, minutes later, a finely dressed man walked with an elegant swagger away from the alleyway where the body lay.

.

.

.

Emily was never the one to like midnight surprises, but when her supervisor showed up at her door at quarter to eleven, she knew she shouldn't refuse.

Though, considering the rate at which he barged in as soon as she opened the door, there was probably no way she could have.

She glanced at the thick file in Hotch's hands and knew her shower would have to be postponed. Her supervisor sat himself down, the file making a heavy slamming noise on her coffee table.

She tentatively took the couch across from him, plopping down on it comfortably while waiting until he finished flipping through the file and deemed her worthy of his attention. She cleared her throat when he showed no signs of relenting, and only then did his fingers cease.

'We found another victim.'

He had her attention. 'You mean for the animal attacks case?'

He shot her a skeptical look.

'You still don't think it's just an animal?' She questioned.

'You really believe it is?'

She gave a shrug, aware that her supervisor probably already knew the answer. She didn't know what she believed. The recent attacks were as bizarre as they came.

The autopsy reports concluded that the bite marks were unidentifiable as any animal known so far, though the teeth marks seemed to suggest a resemblance to those of a wolf's, while the mutilation on the victims and the targeted organs suggested an almost human awareness.

If what they suffered could even be capable of being executed by the human mind, but in their line of job, they knew that given the right circumstance, people could be capable of anything.

She watched as the soft light from the lamp cast deep shadows across Hotch's face, deepening the lines that had only increased in number since the incident from a year ago.

It seemed that with every lead that became deemed redundant added another crease to his forehead. The file involving Spencer Reid was a long and thick one, and one that had been the target of her chief's obsession since the day he had murdered his family.

While intra-team profiling wasn't allowed, it was hard not to wonder how her supervisor must feel to return to his home, the place he had been living alone since the divorce, where his work still ceased to end.

It was no secret even within the office amongst the other employees what Hotch did at night, the files he took home and the regular check ups with the technical analyst regarding the single case that remained to haunt him – and would continue, she knew, to haunt him until he finally found that man responsible.

There had been many rumours around too for a while, about her supervisor's gradual self destruction, and eventual elimination from the unit, but she knew Hotch was too damn good at his job for the FBI to lose. He wasn't the favourite of many of his superiors, but in terms of skill and on the field, stood shoulder to shoulder with the best of unit.

Despite the trauma he had suffered, he was back on in the office in a week, his emotions once again covered beneath his strict mask that no doubt covered many more scars. They had talked about that too – a work addict, a robot with no emotion who had driven his perfect life with a beautiful wife and son away, which, they also believed, had lead to their eventual death.

She never reciprocated any of these rumours, having harboured a severe loathing for politics and the prospect of rumours, for most of them were never true. What the colleagues and those conspiring against Hotch weren't going to get out of him they were also never going to get out of her.

She knew that most of those on the high end were expecting for Hotch to make a mistake, to show a sign of emotional breakdown that they could use to then shut him off, but she was aware for sure; her supervisor wasn't a quitter, nor was he going to make it that easy for them.

What she was afraid of for him was what was at the end of the line; if or after he did manage to find who he was looking for, what then?

'It was another female victim,' Hotch's voice broke her thoughts. '21, a prostitute.'

Emily nodded, leaning over to view the victim's profile. 'Low risk victim. First of these attacks so far.'

'Well we knew from the first five victims that we were dealing with a relatively indiscriminate killer, the only thing they seem to have in common is that they're all at a young age. Race or gender doesn't matter to these guys.'

Emily paused. 'Guys? So there's more than one now?'

Hotch spared her a glance. 'All bite marks were deemed to have belonged to different individuals.'

'Right,' she gave a nod. 'So have they been able to define what these attackers are?'

'I'm open to any suggestions,' Hotch said. 'So far Strauss doesn't seem convinced it's even within our jurisdiction.'

Emily gave a smirk. 'Yeah, that sounds like her. In her opinion guess we could just call in the local pound to take care of these mutts.'

She shifted in her seat and glanced at the clock. It was getting late.

'Sorry I had to barge in at such a late hour.'

She jerked her head back to her supervisor, who was looking at her with an expression that indicated that he genuinely had accidentally disregarded the late hour.

Emily gave a carefree shrug. 'Not a problem.'

When he glanced back down at his file, she decided to throw in a joke. 'You apologized in the end.'

A year ago, he would have at least shown a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Now, nothing but that same emotionless mask. It was times like this when she wondered if they'd ever get the old Hotch back.

.

.

.

An early morning call ruined Emily's morning as she picked up the cell phone to hear Erin Strauss' voice.

'Prentiss.'

'_Good morning, Agent Prentiss.'_

She inwardly groaned, fumbling for the keys in her bag to lock her door. 'Ma'am.'

'_I trust you're ready to continue with your case this morning?'_

She wondered whether she should reciprocate her game and beat around the bush too. She decided to do so for good measure. Hell, she had seen enough of it as a child.

'Yes, ma'am. I'll be in the office in ten minutes.'

She finally succeeded in locking the door, slipped the keys into her bag and switched the cell phone to her other ear. 'May I ask what this call is regarding?'

When she heard Strauss clear her throat, she knew she was going to hear something she didn't like.

'_Agent Rawson has just returned from his case in Boston and has expressed his wishes in rejoining your unit.'_

Great.

'I was under the impression that Agent Hotchner and I were to work as a pair team for this case,' she reasoned, hastening her steps towards her black SUV.

'_Upon further discussion of this matter,'_ Emily could hear from Strauss' sharp tone that the decision had already been made. _'It has been deemed that Agent Rawson's assistance may be of great value in successfully finishing this case. He is a competent agent, and we feel that his contribution could aid in the current condition of your team.'_

Yep, a great example of what a man with a British accent and charm to boot could do to soften a woman like Strauss.

Emily wisely kept her opinions to herself.

'Right, so I should expect him...?'

'_He will be joining you and Agent Hotchner starting from today. I trust you will inform him of these changes.'_

When Strauss received silence from Emily's line, she prompted her once more. _'Agent Prentiss?'_

'Right away, ma'am.'

Emily waited until the woman on the other ling hung up first. She sighed. It had come to a point where she preferred to inform the supervisor's subordinate of important changes rather than the chief himself.

What bullshit.

.

.

.

Hotch didn't seem surprised when she told him the news personally up in his office after she arrived at the office.

'I was expecting something like this.'

Emily's gaze narrowed. 'You're not telling me you knew Rawson was returning.'

'No, it didn't have to be Rawson,' Hotch said, not taking his eyes off the file before him. 'I'm just not surprised that Strauss decided to add another member to our team. We're lucky she didn't decide to add someone completely new.'

She gave a shrug. 'If you'd call it that way.'

Just another way of spying on the old Hotchner. Though looked as if Rawson had done a good job in playing his cards right; despite what he might have had Strauss believe, there was no chance of the British agent betraying her supervisor either.

She had gotten a glimpse of his loyalty from the first day they met, a rather humiliating experience on her part.

'Oh, please, continue.' The familiar refined voice sounded from the door. Their gazes averted towards it to greet Mick Rawson who stood leaning against the frame. 'I can never get sick of listening in about myself.'

'Knocking out of fashion in Boston?' Emily said sarcastically, arms folded across her chest.

Mick gave a chuckle, playfully knocking twice on the office door. 'I can see someone missed me. If you hadn't left the door open I would have realised this was a private conversation.'

The man approached the pair with his usual gait.

'And plus,' he stopped to stand next to Emily. 'I would have thought that we were all past that by now.' He threw her a flirtatious half grin and offered a hand to Aaron.

'It will be a pleasure working with you again,' he said. Aaron gave a solid nod in response, shaking his hand firmly.

'Hope you won't slow us down,' Emily commented as they followed their supervisor out of his office.

'You worry too much,' Mick answered, giving a smirk. 'I finished the case file on the plane back.'

'Huh.'

'Impressed?'

Emily threw him a sardonic glance. 'Not a chance.'

'What's it gonna take?' Mick said, feigning hurt. 'I know. How about we compare theories. Might teach you a thing or two.'

'Why would you need any validation from me when you flatter yourself enough?'

Mick gave a shrug. 'Hey, self-sufficient individuals are rare.'

'Hm,' Emily rolled her eyes. She opened the door to the SUV as Hotch took his place in the driver's seat.

'Narcissistic individuals though,' Emily commented just before she took the seat besides Hotch, 'Not so much.' She motioned to the back seat, indicating his spot.

'Shotgun the front.'

.

.

.

The crime scene seemed one that was typical of your usual dumpsite, except from the look of the corpse it looked as if she had been killed in that very spot where she lay.

The policeman who approached them looked disgusted. 'I hope you hadn't just had lunch,' he commented. 'This isn't a pretty site.'

A stench reached their nostrils as they moved closer to the body underneath the yellow caution tape.

'Well the blood suggests that she hasn't been dead for long. So whatever did this must have inflicted some severe damage,' Mick said.

'Whoever did this is no human,' the policeman remarked, looking away and crinkling his nose as Emily crouched down while she placed latex gloves on his hands.

'Ugh, how can you get near that stuff?' Another policeman who had been standing near by commented.

'It's our job,' Aaron answered curtly, coming to stand beside Emily's form.

Her body was pale and bare, half covered by the fur coat that had been carelessly draped over her. Her arms and fingers were twisted like the limbs of a dead tree.

'What do you see?'

'Her head was severed; the decapitation seems to have come first. Possible sexual assault.'

Mick observed her half exposed body, clothes surprisingly spotless despite the decapitation and mutilations over her figure.

'Something's not right,' he said, joining Emily down near the corpse.

'Not enough blood despite the decapitation,' she said promptly, reaching out to examine her fur coat. She then paused, and gently unfolded the victim's fingers to reveal traces of course dark brown hair.

'Take a look at this.'

Hotch raised a brow as he observed the fur that Emily held up. 'That's a new one,' he commented. 'Get it back to the lab and see if we can get it analysed.'

Mick handed Emily a vile in which she placed the hairs.

'Looks like it's the same killer,' Hotch said. 'Extreme blood loss prior to the decapitation; lack of bite marks indicates that the blood was drained from the neck itself.'

'Judging from the location as well,' Emily added, 'It looks as if the victim was targeted deliberately and for the same reason as the others.'

'We'll see if anyone around her knows her routine. If she was a prostitute there's a chance she was local,' Hotch said.

'Looks like we won't need to make a trek,' Mick commented as he surveyed the bar man emerging from the corner to talk to one of the officers on guard. He was pointing at the woman that lay at their feet, eyes wide in what looked to be disbelief.

.

.

.

The barman, who had introduced himself as Barney, sat in front of them, seemingly uncomfortable in their presence.

'I don't know what her name was; at my bar we don't care about your history or name. As long as you keep quiet, buy a drink and share half your earnings I keep quiet about what you do, whether it's drugs or being an escort for a different man every night,' Barney said. 'She was expensive though, I'll tell you that. The shit that she wore was real, not the faux crap that people around this area can only afford.'

'Was there anything else she was involved in in your bar other than prostitution?' Emily inquired.

'She danced from time to time,' Barney answered, rubbing a hand over his forehead tiredly. 'But that was about it. Most of the customers here keep to themselves; they're either there to see the dancers, meet a hooker or just drink their lonely nights away. You'd be surprised at the number of people we get.'

'So there's no one that caught your eye last night?'

Barney shook his head. 'Every night's different. As far as I know, she was one of the only regulars here; if she had gone out with a guy who frequented my bar, I would know.'

Aaron gave a nod. 'Thank you for your time.'

Emily reached over to hand him a card. 'If you find out or remember anything else, please don't hesitate to call us.'

'Well that was exciting,' Mick remarked as they forwarded out from the dark bar into the sunlight.

'If she was a prostitute it would have meant she left the bar and engaged in the sexual activity willingly,' Emily said.

'Got much more than she bargained for then, eh,' Mick commented, glancing at his wrist watch. 'So we're back to square one then? If it's the same group of killers who commited this murder, given that they all target victims when they're at a vulnerable or accessible state, I don't think this kill suggests a sign of evolution.'

'And with each victim it's obvious that the kills are being committed by different individuals,' Hotch added, unlocking the SUV with the click of his keys.

'First victim, Sarah Daniels was targeted and murdered when she was waiting for the train in the subway at 3 a.m. And you can imagine how busy the underground trains are at that hour.'

'So if they're aiming for situationally high-risk victims, we're looking for killers who lie and wait. Watches their victims, but never for that long; for these guys personalizing his victims plays no part,' Emily followed.

'So I guess we can rule out the theory that they're playing out a fantasy,' Mick said.

Hotch motioned to the policemen on the side. 'Get the body bagged and to the lab. See if they can grab any DNA evidence.' He then turned to the other two agents and ordered as follows, 'We'll go back and compile the geographical profile.'

.

.

.

The bright blaze from the fireplace cast red and orange lights onto the chess pieces scattered across the board. Their elongated shadows cast against the wall made them seem almost human, silent but deadly as a delicate hand hovered over them, contemplating his next move.

The room was dark, the fire crackling away as it delightedly danced on its abundant fuel of wood.

A sudden clatter from the chessboard broke the calm atmosphere, as a black pawn piece rolled off the board, the edge of the table to eventually halt just inches from the fire.

The hand that had gently hovered over the board now gave a rapid swipe, knocking the board and its pieces noisily to the ground.

The corners of lips turned up to form a mysterious smile, eyes gazing down at the pieces that remained rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling away beneath tables, chairs and some, into the red heart of the fire, and others, coming to a solemn stop.

Seconds later, the fire gave a noisy pop, then resumed its crackling once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authoress Notes**: **Apologies for my long absence. Hope you enjoy this new chapter and please read and review!: **

**Title:** Catch Me if You Can

**By:** Clonksholic

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. Any original characters belong to me. I gain no profit from writing this, and do so solely to entertain.

**Warning: Not recommended for ages under 18. Includes violence and sexual reference. Note the rating of the fanfic people. If stuff like that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it. **

**Summary: **AUEmily Prentiss, a FBI Agent, working to solve murders involving apparently supernatural elements. Derek Morgan, a werewolf, working for a leader whom neither him nor the pack has ever seen before. Then, they meet. Hotch/Prentiss/Morgan/Mick

**Catch Me if You Can**

**Chapter 2**

After interviewing three other men who had stepped up after hearing about Sally's death, it seemed clear that she had coined the term as the most popular prostitute in the town. Quite the social butterfly at that, most hookers weren't interested in knowing the ups and downs of their clients' lives but it looked as if that was why the bill was so high when it came to her joining them for the night, as both their nightly conquest and counselor.

Mick watched as the men eyed the dark haired agent on their way out of the room. Her expression was strict, shoulders squared and arms folded across her chest like a soldier.

It was intriguing. Despite her no-bullshit professional stance she still managed to get men to look and stay looking.

He knew he did.

He wondered if she was aware that it was part of that untouchable image she sported that made her so attractive to the opposite sex. Not that putting on any other less of an act would have made her any less so, simply a depreciation in her value, perhaps.

He had heard enough from the male colleagues at the Bureau to know that many a colleague had tried to lure her outside the professional premises, and failed. She was the ice cube, yet it never stopped them from trying. Annoyed and their prides hurt, he knew it was the reason why they had formulated the less than pleasant rumours going around the office, about the older agent finally having succeeded in bedding the young agent, and that being her reason for her persistence to stay on his team.

Jealousy, in an attempt to see if either of them slipped up. It was part of why he had tried to hard to join the team; the two needed any help they could get.

Though he knew he couldn't let them know the real reason – Prentiss would pull the not needing protection bullshit and about how she could handle the pressure herself.

Hell, he had no doubts of that woman being able to take care of the both of them; if anything Mick thought a guy like Hotch in his current state needed the assistance of the loyal female the most. But he felt that there was no harm in having a third man in a pair team that had so much against them.

Hotch came into the room, shutting his cell phone.

Emily, ever attentive of the supervisor's state, immediately shot him a question.

'Who was it?'

He hesitated, a mistake on his part. 'I want you and Rawson to get to the lab.'

'Hot –'

'They've got the results back for the evidence found on the previous victim.'

'Was it –'

'Prentiss.'

Emily paused at Mick's sharp interjection.

'Yes, it was Strauss,' Hotch responded, meeting Emily's gaze. 'She wishes to speak to me briefly –'

'Briefly?' Emily's voice was laced with annoyance. 'We're in the middle of a damn case, she –'

'It's not a long trip,' Hotch said.

'That's not the point –'

'The lab's waiting,' he said sharply. 'I don't want any more arguments. Now go.'

.

.

.

Emily wasn't in the mood for any of Mick's jokes – though that being said, it didn't seem like she ever was – but she knew after what had happened in the room, it was inevitable.

'You know, any further and you two could have passed as a married couple.'

She walked on, ignoring his comment and eyes facing straight ahead. She knew he didn't mean anything by it, unlike the other bastards in the office, it was simply to gain a reaction – an emotional reaction she wasn't going to give him the privilege of forcing out of her.

'I'm guessing feigning tunnel vision's worked before?' He remarked, pacing his steps to walk alongside her.

His shoulder brushed up against hers, reminding her of his height and bulk. She had never been seen as short, standing at a height of over 5'7, her heels providing her an extra boost, but next to him she felt herself somehow shrinking.

They passed two nurses, and she could almost feel their gazes following the good looking man walking with his elegant gait beside her.

His sturdy bulk suddenly blocked her vision as he moved in front of her, forcing her to stop. She looked straight past him, refusing to meet his gaze. Her expression was one of exasperation, as she waited for him to speak.

'You know, it's courtesy for you to look at someone who speaks,' he said.

She met his gaze with a glare. 'What.' Her tone was sharp.

'What's got you so wound up?'

She narrowed her gaze. 'You're seriously asking me that question.'

He gave a shrug, moving further in front of her and blocking her exit. 'At least humour me then.'

She averted her gaze to the ground, bringing a hand up to push a strand of hair out of the way. Emily suddenly looked tired for a second under the bright hospital light as she spoke. 'I don't know it just disgusts me.'

She continued when Mick didn't stop her, focusing her gaze onto the window far across from her at the end of the corridor.

'The fact that Strauss called Hotch during the middle of the investigation tells me that she couldn't care less about this investigation. Or Hotch for that matter. She's just waiting for him to break down. This case is perfect since everyone including her thinks it's a wild goose chase. He's dispensable.'

'We all are in the end,' Mick said. 'To them anyway.'

She met his gaze once more, Mick's expression now serious. He held it and only spoke once he was sure she wouldn't look away.

'Look, I know you're not too thrilled about me being here. But I'm here to help.'

'You can't do anything,' she replied sharply.

'You know what I mean.' She looked away but he decided to continue regardless. 'I'm on your side.'

He searched her face for a response but found none, and this time did not stop her when she pushed past him once more.

.

.

.

Aaron Hotchner stood tall in front of the woman, higher than her in height but not professional status.

He held her gaze, refusing to falter under her sharp gaze that scrutinized his stance, searching for any signs of weakness that would allow her to pick at.

'Agent Hotchner.'

'Ma'am.'

His response was solid, voice firm enough to establish his strength but toned down enough to remain polite.

She threw him another glance before turning her gaze onto the paper below her. 'I assume Agent Rawson has settled into your team?'

The easy questions always came first.

'Yes ma'am,' he replied.

'A valuable addition to the team, I assume,' she pressed, when he did not respond further.

'It has only been a few hours,' he said, then quickly added, 'And while he has never been assigned to my team I have no doubts that he's a competent agent.'

He knew how to choose his words carefully. He was the leader of the team, despite its diminished stance, and remained professional, making sure that each word used portrayed this subtly.

Erin threw him another look before continuing. 'I have a new agent who the board feels may be another valuable addition to your team.'

'We are in the middle of a case ma'am,' Aaron replied. 'I would have to ensure that their capabilities match those of the current members' in order to determine whether or not he would be –'

'Of which I'm sure this new recruit has,' Erin interrupted sharply.

_This recruit?_

'Theoretical knowledge can easily be applied directly on the field regardless of practical experience,' Erin said, speaking slower and louder when she heard Aaron try and challenge her claim, 'The _**board**_ has informed me that the new member is a model student who was deemed competent enough to perform with no less enthusiasm and skills than the current agents on your team.'

_Easy coming from her, having dealt with all her problems from the safety of her desk_, he could almost hear Emily retort.

'The field does indeed require extensive theoretical knowledge,' Aaron said. 'However I am also aware that it is extremely difficult to apply it directly on the field in absence of any practical experience. From your description it sounds as if the new recruit is completely lacking in this area.'

'You have a lot to say about an agent whom you've yet to see,' Erin said, tone revealing her annoyance.

'It seems that the board themselves is uninformed about the exact capabilities of the new agent if they have not informed you of his name,' Aaron observed.

He watched as Erin's nostril's flared angrily. She shifted in her seat, throwing him another irritated glance before continuing. She cleared her throat.

'I'm aware that he's on his way down now,' she said. 'He will meet you at the police station.'

She leaned forward in her chair, meeting his gaze. 'We are trying to make it easier for you, Agent Hotchner,' she said carefully, voice lowering to assume a sympathetic tone. 'We are aware that you have experienced a personal loss; should this get too demanding, remember the option of early retirement is still being offered to you.'

Aaron Hotchner opened his mouth as if to say something further, but then stopped. 'Thank you ma'am,' he said, and left the office.

Erin felt her body slump in relief as she heard the door close. She had not even realised how tense she had been the moment the man had walked in. The effect his presence had was one the reasons why she found it difficult to like the man. For he possessed things, things that came _**naturally**_ to him; things that she could not achieve.

She could never be sure what exactly was occurring behind Agent Hotchner's unyielding mask. His expression, combined with his deep, steadfast voice, was why she always found him unnerving as it never betrayed any sort of weakness in her presence. She was used to people faltering before her, lapsing into a position of compliance and obedience, the engravings on the gold plaque on her desk serving as a visual cue that portrayed her as a figure of higher authority merely by its presence.

But not Agent Hotchner.

He never blinked.

He never flinched.

And without even trying, he exuded a sense of power and self-control. The moment he walked into a room, he was the person you would look to and feel as if he was in charge, even if he wasn't. He made what she felt was a constant effort, seem effortless. Furthermore, he never abused it.

And the way this drained her of her control frightened her.

It was the man's gaze also, the way it seemed to be able to _**see**_ the way he scared her, as if he could figure out and see all the flaws and mistakes she worked everyday to cover up and overcome.

It was also his team, Agent Emily Prentiss, the daughter of a politician who, instead of joining Erin, had only grown more resilient towards the forces, rumours and events that opposed her unit chief as the time she spent with him on the field increased. The loyalty and doggedness of the young agent, also scared her.

The fact that the one man who never looked at her with fear or obedience, had an ally who would never budge, scared her. The man who did not fucking _**need**_ any more support that he already provided for himself, had something, _**someone**_ alongside him who rivaled him in his resolve and skills but would never try to overtake him.

Alongside that tag team, her status meant nothing.

Some things in life were never fair.

.

.

.

Lab rats.

That's all this team was to her now. Aaron felt no anger or bitterness as he walked from the office. He knew Emily's stubborn presence on the team only served to annoy Strauss, as did his continued existence at the Bureau. But she was one of the ones who gave him another reason to stay.

His job had never been and would never be about achieving a higher status or acknowledgement from those above. It had always been about the victims, the ones he was fighting for, those who were in no position or power to be able to substantially fight against the things that had been done to them by their fellow human being, who often turned out to be victims themselves.

Fighting the monsters that reigned terror beyond the safety of the desk – it was what him, Emily and Rawson were there for. They were for fighting for the lives of those that had been lost due to an unjust cause. To give the physical remainder of their lives, their families, some sense of consolation. Though he sometimes questioned; perhaps no just or unjust cause existed, for in the end, they were all to head in the same damned direction.

.

.

.

The woman at the lab, the name tag on her chest revealing her to be Jenny, was quick to inform them of the results.

Jenny motioned for them to come beside Sally's body, removing the white sheet that covered her body. A large Y incision lined with stitches defacing her chest revealed that an autopsy had already been performed.

Under the fluorescent lights of the office the wounds looked worse despite the fact that they had been cleaned up; in fact, the flawless view this provided to the extent of the wounds now revealed the inhumane ravaging the body had suffered.

'I'd hate to say this,' Jenny started, 'but it was rather fortunate her decapitation had preceded these.' She motioned to the wounds on the woman's body.

Deep gashes had been forcefully ripped across her torso, one of them deep enough for the ribs to be visible. A larger rip extended from her left shoulder down to her groin, ending at the leg. Large chunks of skin had been removed; 'Almost like someone had grabbed pieces of skin and ripped it out,' Jenny commented.

'What's the match you found?' Mick asked.

'This is so far the first victim who seems to have been killed by the same individual who murdered the second victim,' Jenny replied. 'The traces of saliva on the wounds suggest that they don't belong to a humans', which is consistent with the findings from the other victims.'

'So you believe that the victim was killed by…?'

'Not a human,' Jenny confirmed. 'The tears on the edges of the wounds are also rough, not smooth, the latter of which is often the tell tale sign that it was made by a weapon. It's all I can tell you I'm afraid.'

'Were they killed by the same perpetrator?' Emily asked.

Jenny shook her head. 'No. I'd say they're of the same type but definitely not the same individual. The patterns of wounds of this woman don't match those of the other victims in the files I was given.'

.

.

.

'So what do you think?' Mick asked as they left the lab.

'Well we speculated we were dealing with multiple unsubs,' Emily responded, thoughtful look on her face. 'Guess we were right. Problem is with each new victim we're no closer to catching them. And these guys are fast.'

Emily felt a sense of frustration rise in her chest. Checking her phone, she found that it had been two hours since Hotch had left to speak to Strauss. No phonecall from him suggested that he was still in her office, or, more unlikely, on his way back.

It was getting late too. Emily wondered what was so god damn important for Strauss to pull the unit chief from the case to get him back from New York to Quantico. Though she knew that the case, given its strange elements, was yet to be prioritized by the woman who had never been on the field, face to face with the victims.

It was why Strauss had assigned Hotch on it, probably thinking that it was going to end in a wild goose chase, with the kills eventually tapering off – she wished it was that simple.

With each kill there seemed to be the potential for a possible escalation, or the consistent use of the violence involved in the attacks. While these unsubs were tracking and murdering their targets down with a purpose, they had yet to know exactly what it was, asides from the fact that they needed their victims bloods.

She heard vibrations sounding briefly from Mick's jacket pocket.

'Rawson speaking,' he answered. 'Hotch, yeah. We've just finished.'

Emily stopped in her tracks and threw him a questioning look.

Why was Hotch calling him and not her?

'Alright then, we'll meet you at New York.'

A dull beep sounded the end of the call.

'What the hell is going on?'

Mick decided to answer the second part of her question. 'There's just been another murder.'

'New York? But all the other murders so far have been local.'

Mick gave a shrug, masking his concern. 'Looks like they're more spread out than we let in on.'

.

.

.

'You know if I had known this would happen we would have brought another car,' Mick said as another train rattled past them as they stood on the platform, waiting for their next one.

'Three man team, we wouldn't need one,' Emily said.

'Either way, next time I'm driving,' Mick replied, glancing at his wrist watch.

Emily briefly scouted the platform. Rush hour crowds were the worst. People huddled in closer to the edge as a distant rumble sounded.

People murmuring. Laughing. Talking. Crying.

_Crying?_

She turned her head to see a pram in the distance. She exhaled a breath of relief when she saw a woman leaning over with a bottle, a man a few inches away watching them. She watched as the woman straightened up and smiled at the man, who looked as if to have said something. The woman then disappeared into the crowd, leaving the man with the pram.

Happy families. It was one of those moments where she was reminded of the people she was potentially fighting for…

The baby was crying once more.

She tapped Mick on the shoulder. 'Rawson, something's wrong.' He turned to face in the direction she was gazing, and followed her as she slowly walked towards the pram.

Emily's pace quickened as she watched the man reach inside the pram, lift the baby up and…

Started to walk away.

'Rawson,' she said, indicating towards the opposite direction. He gave a nod and pushed his way into the crowd, attempting to confront the man from either sides.

She could see the man's back as he held the baby like a loving father would, greeting the annoyed expressions of the people around him with one that apologized for the behaviour of his child.

If only they could see the look of hunger in his eyes.

Emily knew soon he would reach the end of the crowd, which would signal trouble for the child. She began to sprint between people, trying to make it as quiet as possible and disturbing the crowd as less as she could. One word, one comment made at her speed could cause the man to run.

She had just spun away from another person when she watched the man meet her gaze. His eyes narrowed as he watched her slow to a walk. Her eyes widened as she watched his pupils flash a different colour at a speed so quick she almost questioned whether it had really happened. As his lips parted in a gleeful smirk, she could see two fangs protruding from between his teeth.

_What the fuck._

That's when he bolted.

'_**FBI Stop!'**_

Emily followed, finding Rawson a few metres away from her doing the same thing. She felt a sense of dread cloud her mind as she realised where the man was headed.

_Down to the tracks. _The next train was due in 5 minutes.

They had to hurry.

She could hear her heavy breathing as the baby's crying became louder.

The guy was fast.

She heard the sounds of her heels and Mick's shoes tap on the polished subway floor, beating out a continuous rhythm.

The rumbling of the train seemed ominous as it caused the ground to tremble and echoed through the station. She heard the scream of the mother.

_They had to get him_.

She could see the mother crying for her child, another one in millions of cases where they had not made it in time. This one could be crying for a child they had missed right before their eyes. The one they had lost right before their eyes, despite their credentials and duty to stop it from happening.

Anger was always a good motivation for her. It fueled her legs strength to continue to run, and kept out the sense of futility that threatened to rush into her mind.

Rawson's gun was out, as was her's.

_Just a little bit closer._

That's when the man swerved around. And fired.

Screams rang through the station, followed by absolute chaos. She fought against the crowds of people who attempted to push past her as she glanced around to scan for potential hits.

She saw the trail of blood that lead towards…an influx of people ran across the trail, smudging the red into the surface of the station floor into dark brown smears.

She couldn't see him, or the victim.

'I'm alright! Go!'

She heard Rawson yell, and bolted, pushing down the instinctive concern for his wellbeing.

He had been hit, but the strength in his voice suggested he could last longer than the baby would if she didn't find the guy soon.

She followed the faint cries of the baby she managed to grasp. It wasn't too late yet, she told herself. Not yet.

She had just burst through the end of the crowd when she realised the man had stopped. He was standing at the edge of the station, holding out the baby in his right hand over the edge, dangling him precariously.

Emily halted, pointing her glock at him. 'I want you to put the child down next to you and put your hands in the air,' she ordered.

The station became silent as it spewed out the masses of people who had, just a second ago, been inside the station.

2 more minutes until the train arrived at that side of the station.

The rumbling from before had ceased, telling her that it had been a train on the other side.

The station was now quiet.

The man shot her a glance, locking with her gaze. They were a ghostly white, but she did not falter. Her stance was stable and still as her glock was pointed at him, close range.

'If you shoot me, can you save him before he drops to the tracks?' the man asked, the left corner of his mouth lifting into a mocking smirk.

'I want you to put him down next to you,' she ordered. 'Now.'

'What kind of a cop are you,' he challenged, voice soft but echoing in a ghost like manner as he stood near the mouth of the tunnel. 'Leaving your comrade behind.'

'Her comrade is right here.'

She heard Mick next to her, a few metres away. He stood closer to the edge in line with the abductor, gun held out in one hand.

Blood dripped from the other arm that hung limp at his side.

'Rawson, you okay?' She asked clearly, gaze remaining on the man holding the baby.

'Never been better,' he replied, a tone of mocking amusement in his reply.

Emily's lip flicked up in a half smile. He'd be fine.

'Put the baby down,' Mick instructed. 'We're done fooling around.'

The man's gaze flashed, his smirk lifting up into a sinister grin. 'Oh…we're done, are we?'

A chill travelled up Emily and Mick's spines as the man's smirk suddenly disappeared, his face freezing into a dangerous expression. His eyes remained a cloudy white, and despite them obscuring the pupils, it seemed as if he was glaring straight through them.

His arm flicked as Emily shot and Mick dashed from his spot towards the falling baby. Everything seemed to slow down in the moment.

The man dodging the bullet.

Mick jumping off the edge , his good arm outstretched towards the smaller figure.

She was just about to fire another bullet when –

The man was tackled to the ground, an African American man of a larger bulk forcing him to the ground, twisting his arm behind his back.

'_Son of a –'_

'I wouldn't do that if I were you,' the man above him said, tightening his grip on the struggling figure. 'Whatever you say can and will be used against you in court.'

'Though I have my doubts of you getting that far,' Emily remarked as she put away her gun.

'I got him,' the man said, nodding towards the edge of the station.

Emily quickly headed towards the edge of the platform, crouched down and found herself looking down at Mick.

'Wondered when you'd get here,' he commented with a smirk. He held the child up, who's face was now puffy and scrunched up from crying. His mouth opened once more to let out a loud wail as he was held in the air once again.

'Not a kid person, are you,' she remarked as she held the child in an attempt to calm him down.

She reached down with the other arm and helped Mick up the station edge.

'How's the arm?'

'Been better,' Mick replied, straightening up and cringing comically. He anticipated the pain that would hit now that his body began to relax. He raised a brow at the larger figure who had just finished twisting the man's arms so he could hold them with a single hand, his knee jabbed into a specific point on his back that rendered him quiet.

'Who's the new guy?' He asked.

Emily gave a shrug, and they both surveyed the man as he rose from his place, forcing the guy to his feet.

A victim wounded, no decapitations, and thus comes alive in autopsy table. He surveyed the pair, gave a sheepish grin and asked, 'Either of you got any cuffs?'

.

.

.

**PLEASE R+R!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Authoress Notes**: **CHAPTER 1 UPDATED TO PROVIDE MORE CONTEXT TO HOTCH'S PAST IN THIS TIMELINE. **

**Title:** Catch Me if You Can

**By:** Clonksholic

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. Any original characters belong to me. I gain no profit from writing this, and do so solely to entertain.

**Warning: Not recommended for ages under 18. Includes violence and sexual references. Note the rating of the fanfic people. If stuff like that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it. **

**Summary: **AU Emily Prentiss and Aaron Hotchner work to solve a series of werewolf murders. Strauss interferes with their 2 man team, while there seems to be a connection between the man who killed Hotchner's family and the werewolves Hotch/Prentiss/Morgan/Mick

**NOTE: CHAPTER 1 UPDATED TO PROVIDE MORE CONTEXT TO HOTCH'S PAST IN THIS TIMELINE.**

**Catch Me if You Can**

**Chapter 3**

'Anything?'

Emily shook her head, closing the door behind her.

'Wait, you mean to tell me there is _nothing_ on this guy?' Mick asked, tone incredulous.

'No birth records, no name, no criminal record; nothing,' Emily walked up to the glass and looked in, surveying the young man who sat at the steel desk, cuffed hands placed on its surface neatly. 'As far as the system's concerned, he doesn't exist.'

'Probably why he was fine with providing his fingerprints,' Derek said from where he was sitting, surveying the two agents.

Mick's gaze was steady as he studied Emily, who was staring behind the two-way mirror with a contemplative expression. 'What's your plan?' He asked.

Emily didn't want to let herself hope; especially for a strange case such as this. However the presence of the wolf like teeth and transforming pupils on the young man triggered butterflies to flutter in her stomach at the possibility of this being a breakthrough.

'Interview the guy; find out what or who did that to him. And why,' she replied determinedly.

As she pushed away from the window and walked towards the door, she shot Mick a sharp look, who had stood after her to follow.

'How about you sit this one out,' she suggested, motioning with her eyes towards Derek who was now gazing at the man sitting in the interrogation room.

The young man had not moved an inch since he had been sat down, his hands remaining still as they lay on top of one another.

'Right,' Mick replied, shooting her a _You owe me big time_ look for leaving him to baby sit.

She raised a brow in amusement and offered a smirk in return. 'You'll get over it,' she said, shutting the door behind her.

Mick sighed and glanced at his watch.

8.45pm.

Hotch would have to wait.

.

.

.

_He could smell her from even at such a long distance away. She smelt nice. _

_They were right. He was changing. He could smell in a way that he could never smell before. _

_It wasn't just her scent; it was the blood that rushed beneath her skin._

_He could smell that. He relished it. _

_And tonight, as they promised, he would be able to hear it too. Hear their hearts beating, hear the blood rushing through their veins and hear where it flowed the most. _

_And then soon, he'd be able to taste it too._

The man watched her with amusement as she closed the door of the interrogation room behind her.

Emily met his gaze, determined for some answers.

_Right you son of a bitch, let's see what you've got._

The black curls of his hair were long, messily tangled to frame his face. His eyes were back to their original colour, which were a piercing ice blue. His skin was pale, a stark contrast to the darkness of his hair, and when he smiled, his lips lost their colour, blending into the skin around his mouth to a point where it looked as if he had none. It was as if he had not seen the sun in months. His teeth, she could see, were yellow and browning around the edges.

The canine like incisors she had seen at the station seemed to have disappeared.

'Detective.' He offered, his stance changing for the first time since he sat down; his right hand lifted from where it had been laying on his left, to rest next to it on the table.

'That's _**Agent**_ Prentiss,' she said bluntly, sitting herself down across from him.

He raised his brows, miming surprise. 'FBI? I'm honoured.'

'Don't be,' she said. 'You're just like any of the other guys we chase.' She tested his arrogance.

He smirked. 'You'll have to go a long way before you find a guy like me. I'm different from all those others.'

'That's what they all think,' she fixed him with a glare.

'No,' he repeated once more, leaning forward gleefully. 'No, Agent Prentiss, you really have no idea.'

'Really?' Emily feigned curiosity. She leant forward, mimicking his previous movements. 'How about you tell me what makes you so different from all those other guys that you refer to.'

'For one thing,' he leaned in closer, 'They don't have these.' He lifted the corners of his lips, where the canine incisors had somehow grown back.

She did not flinch, continuing to watch him with an apathetic gaze as he surveyed her face for a change in emotions.

'And – _**AND**_ I bet none of them can do this,' he added, pushing his hair back clean from his face. She watched, expression once again unchanging as his pupils turned from an icy blue to a cloudy white to match the surrounding whites of his eyes.

'Hm,' she feigned a bored expression. 'So you think that's what makes you different?'

He nodded eagerly, the proud smile on his lips wide as he searched for face for admiration or fear.

It was time for her to wipe it off.

She leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. 'Ten bodies. Found all over the state. Different DNA found in the bite marks on the victims. A pair of teeth marks on all of them; _just like yours_.'

She scrutinized his expression with interest as his hands holding his hair back eagerly loosened in their tight grip. His fell from their widened state as he heard her words. His smile faltered.

'Now you tell me. Are you really that different.'

.

.

.

'She's good.'

'What?' Mick turned his gaze to the darker man, who had identified himself as Derek Morgan, who was sitting on the desk by the wall.

He motioned to the interaction between the agent and the man sitting behind the window.

'Oh right,' Mick said, 'Yeah, one of the best.'

'You guys partners?'

Mick thought about the question for the moment. 'No, we're part of a team. Our supervisor's in New York at the moment.'

'New York?' Derek gave a grin. 'that's where I'm headed.'

'Right,' Mick replied. He didn't know how else to.

He wasn't sure what it was about this guy; whether it was his good looks or if the fact that he had helped them catch the guy who they otherwise would have lost had poked a competitive nerve in him, but something got on his nerves.

'Where's your accent from?'

Mick gave a shrug. 'Was born over there, so I guess it stuck.' He gave a half grin.

'Cool,' Derek agreed. 'Gets you extra points with the ladies, I bet?'

Mick chuckled briefly, 'Suppose so. Though I don't see how you'd need to try either.'

'Hasn't worked with her though, huh?' Derek motioned towards the window once more, to the woman behind it.

'Nothing works on her,' Mick replied quickly. When he noticed Derek raising his brow at his defensive tone, he quickly corrected, 'She's too professional for that.'

'Bet it doesn't stop people from trying though, right?' Derek said, grinning.

Mick faked a joking smile and averted his gaze to the glass to watch the interaction behind it.

'What case are you guys working on anyway?' Derek asked again, looking genuinely interested.

'Don't push it man,' Mick replied, a half smile on his lips. 'We appreciate your help but –'

'Would it help if I told you I was an agent too?'

Mick gave a chuckle. 'You know; I'd actually believe that.'

Derek returned an amused chuckle, reaching into his pocket. 'No, seriously.' He pulled out his wallet and opened it up to display his credentials.

_Agent Derek Morgan_.

'But you had no cuffs –' Mick started to say, until a though hit him.

_He wanted to follow along the whole time. _

Derek's smile turned sheepish as Mick stared at the wallet with a frown, perplexed at the sudden turn of events.

'I was supposed to head to New York to meet an Agent Hotchner. You know him?'

.

.

.

'You're not even gonna ask what I am?' The man inquired, a heavy frown on his forehead. He sounded disappointed.

Emily met his gaze and held it steadily, brow raised. 'Any reason why I should?'

'You're a bad actress.'

That made her look up. She cocked a brow, her fingers intertwining as she placed both her hands on the table and leaned forward.

'Actually no, guess you're not,' he corrected, tilting his head in a pondering manner. 'Anyone normal would have missed how your pupils dilated when I showed you my eyes.'

His eyes flashed as they suddenly transformed once more. They turned to normal just as quickly as they had changed.

'A completely uncontrollable reaction, really,' he offered, an amused expression on his face as he scrutinized Emily's. 'Has nothing to do with your abilities.'

Emily checked herself, suddenly compelled to question every single muscle that shifted on her face and what it revealed.

She forced it away, refusing to let him get to her.

_He could feel her heart racing. It was exhilarating, knowing that she had no idea what he could see, what he could hear, what he could smell. _

_Her scent was becoming increasingly distracting. That stirring feeling in his stomach felt familiar; the same feeling that had overwhelmed him that day during high school when his prom date had said yes to his advances. _

_Her scent, it was engulfing his senses. _

_He felt blood rushing to his hands, his finger tips tingling as they threatened to split. It felt as if several splinters had been jabbed in and were attempting to burst out. The heat began to warm the cold metal of the cuffs around his wrists._

_He would enjoy this. _

_He gazed into the eyes of the agent once more, searching for further signs of weakness. _

_He was impressed when he found that there was none. _

'Do you know this woman?'

His gaze shifted from the female agent to the photo she placed on the desk.

_He could feel his pupils dilating, the warmth filling his eyes as his eyes glazed over at the sight of the delicious, red, blood. _

He looked up at her, forcefully retracting his pupils to their normal appearance as he leaned back in his chair in a smug manner.

'No.'

Emily stayed silent, surveying the man with her arms folded across her chest.

He raised a brow at her silence, then asked, 'Why, should I?'

'You tell me.'

Her tone was soft but dangerous as she leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk.

'They have the exact same fang marks as you do.'

'Yes, you mentioned that,' the man nodded nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair and lifting his gaze to survey her. 'But you also mentioned that the DNA found was different.'

His gaze was challenging.

'So how could I have done these? I've already provided my DNA; of which you'll find no match.'

'I never said _you_ did.' Emily held her ground. 'Exactly how many of you are there?'

'Do you even know what we are?'

'_**We?**_' Emily repeated, not missing a beat. 'So you do know.'

'And you don't,' He mocked, offering a sly grin. His pupils flashed, threatening to change once more as he heard the agent's heart beat faster.

_She looked angry, and her body was reacting in correspondence too. He could hear the rush of the blood through her veins. He could almost feel the heat. _

_A sharp pain shot up his spine, causing him to draw a quick breath. He felt and heard each and every crack, as he felt his backbone spasm, the pain increasing with each segment that popped, feeling as if someone was hammering a nail into the center of each piece of bone in his spine. _

_He felt an involuntary bristle run down his back. When he looked up into the eyes of the agent he knew she had not missed it. _

The shiver was almost animalistic, like the way a wolf bristled its mane in the presence of a challenger.

Emily watched as another shiver ran down the man's spine, causing him to shudder. When she saw his pupils roll to the back of his eyes, she knew something was happening.

'Are you alright?'

'What time is it?' She heard the man manage to ask through clenched teeth. His shivers began to turn to convulsions. The man doubled up, bringing his cuffed hands to his chest in a feeble attempt to assume to fetal position.

'What?' Emily's eyes widened as her hand slowly reached for her gun.

'What _**time is it?' **_

It had not even been a second when Emily's eyes had flitted to the watch on her wrist.

_**CRACK.**_

The man's body suddenly contorted, folding over backwards as if his spine had been snapped in half. His fingers were curled in within his hands like the legs of a dead spider.

_It was happening._

His mouth snapped open as if someone had grabbed both parts of his jaw and pulled forcefully, and he began to wretch, as if to empty the entire contents of his stomach. He felt warm blood run down his lips as fangs burst from his gums with great force, further than he had ever dared to push them.

Heat engulfed his fingers as claws burst from them, and he knew what was coming as his skin began to tingle. His ears began to be bombarded with the sounds of his heart, its drumming deafening and accelerating as it prepared to pump for a new body.

Warm, hot blood trailed down his fingers and dripped to the floor.

The skin around his wrists were the first to go. The sound of fabric being forcefully torn rang through the room as his skin finally burst, tufts of fur breaking through the openings.

Then he felt the ribs, his rib cage lurch as his lungs were forced against them in his attempt to take a breath.

Oh the pain. The pain.

He heard his scream as he felt every single one of his ribs pop to give room for his lungs and heart. Pain wracked through his body, and he could hear each and every tear as his body began to shed its previous skin.

Then he felt his spine contort for the last time, a finally, sickening _**CRACK**_ putting the final piece of bone in alignment.

That's when he realised the female agent who had been in the room had been replaced by three SWAT members. The guns were pointed at him, within this tiny room.

He could smell all of them. The sweat forming on their nose bridges, beneath their clothes. He could smell her scent, which still lingered despite her absence. He could picture in his mind the way in which she had went.

It was as if all his senses had been magnified.

He heard their heart beats, all three of them.

They were scared. Bewildered.

They were talking to him. Yelling at him. He deafened his ears towards them and took a deep breath. He knew they could hear his lungs shifting and expanding.

He turned his pupils, which he knew had turned a ghostly white, towards his hands, flexing them experimentally.

He heard the safeties of the guns being released as he turned his gaze towards them. Then he shifted his vision towards the agent's scent that trailed out of the room.

Let the hunt begin.

.

.

.

'She's a Jane Doe,' Doctor Clark said, lifting the white sheet to reveal the body. 'The extent of the mutilation is so severe it's been difficult getting any identifiable details from her but we've just sent the dental records through.'

The first to hit Hotch and NYPD Detective Smith was the smell. While the detective cringed and instinctively brought up a hand to cover his nose and mouth, Hotch's expression did not change as he stepped closer.

The skin was completely torn off the victim's body, leaving it as a heaving mass of dead muscle and bone. The face was almost unrecognisable as a human's if it weren't for the fact that it was attached to a body that had miraculously retained its figure. It was obvious that due to the extent of the mutilations it'd be impossible for him to be able to spot the pair of fang marks as found on the previous victims.

'I've yet to do a complete autopsy on her,' Doctor Clark said, handing both a file to both Detective Smith and Agent Hotchner. 'but it looks as if the skinning was inflicted post-mortem.'

'All of it?' Hotch questioned.

'Most of it, it seems,' Doctor Clark said. 'Cause of death was due to the cut on her throat –' She gestured to the large gash visible on the neck.

'Do you know what it was done with?'

Doctor Clark breathed in deeply, stepping closer towards the body. 'Not a man-made weapon as far as I could see. The edges were jagged, as if it was made by large animal claws.'

'Like a wolf's,' Hotch offered.

Doctor Clark tilted her head, considering it. 'Very much so, yes.' She said finally.

A dull ringing sounded from the phone on the wall of the lab, prompting the doctor to approach it.

'Yeah, I'll be up in a minute.'

Doctor Clark turned to face them to deliver her news. 'There's been a match on the dental records,' she said. 'Detective?'

'I'll be fine here,' Hotch said, offering a nod to the Detective. His eyes returned to the file in his hands as they left.

_A pair of indentations found on neck of victim. Traces of saliva present. Skin was forcefully removed from entire body; lack of smooth edges suggests they were torn off in a pulling motion. _

Hotch paused, mentally organized himself in his head, then reached for his phone and dialed Emily's number. It rang once, twice, then three times, only to reach her voice mail.

'_This is Agent Emily Prentiss, please leave a message.'_

'It's Hotch. Call back as soon as possible. It's regarding the latest victim.'

He hung up, turning his back against the corpse behind him. He turned his gaze back to the file once more, barely noticing the long shadow that was cast across his hand as the moon appeared behind the only window in the lab.

As the clouds moved completely to reveal a full moon, the body behind Hotch suddenly sat upright, like someone being jerked awake by a bad dream.

.

.

.

Shattered glass littered the ground outside Virginian police station. The once bright red blood began to darken into a brown as it seeped into concrete.

A soft scraping noise sounded over a soft moan, as the lid of the drain was dragged over to close the dark, gaping hole once more.

**NOTE: CHAPTER 1 UPDATED TO PROVIDE MORE CONTEXT TO HOTCH'S PAST IN THIS TIMELINE.**


	4. Chapter 4  please read

**ANNOUNCEMENT**

To my beloved readers,

This story will be going through a rewrite. I'll be starting from a clean slate but the concept will remain the same. I have so many ideas for it (even a potential ending) but it's just not progressing with the way I've written it so far; I'm just finding it hard to like it at all, especially having not established the characters' back stories properly (despite having it all laid out in my head). The new version will be a lot more structured, and I hope you'll join me for its updated journey.

Let me know any suggestions or ideas or speculations!

Signing off,

Clonks.


End file.
